Silver Lining
by Yabberli
Summary: Every cloud has one, right? Ron is a little less thick than usual in the face of Hermione's sorrow. RonHermione oneshot.


A/N: This is a plot bunny that squeaked in my mind when I was trying to go to sleep. It was one of the ideas that I actually REMEMBERED, so, you know, I kinda HAD to write it. This is Seventh Year, and is also blatantly Hermione/Ron. It's in canon, so I'm not springing any random little changes on you. Ooh, except one. I don't know if McGonagall would become Headmistress or not, so I'm just saying she's still Head of Gryffindor and someone else got the job. Don't ask me who. Oh, and yes, this is a one-shot.

Silver Lining

Harry sat poking his toast halfheartedly with his fork. The mood of the entire Great Hall seemed to match his own: voices were quiet, nobody was excited, and occasionally someone would break down in tears. It seemed that everybody had a reason to cry these days, and if you asked, you'd probably get an answer sounding something like this.

"They killed my brother."

"My parents are dead."

"They have my uncle imprisoned."

No need to ask who _they_ were; Death Eaters as well as their Master were prominent in everybody's minds, and they were not allowed to forget it. Everyday the post would come bearing tidings of yet another attack, more Muggle killings, and somebody's family member died at least once a week, if not more frequently. Tempers were high, tolerance was low, and nobody really wanted to talk about it.

So far, Hermione had been one of the lucky ones. She was safe, as was her family and most of her Muggle friends. Harry peered at her from under his sprawl of hair. She seemed happy enough. She had a book propped against a pitcher of pumpkin juice (_Hogwarts: a History_) and every once in while she would thoughtfully spear an egg and slowly lift it to her mouth, never once taking her eyes from the page.

Ron, seated next to Hermione and across from Harry, ate with his usual gusto, shoving as much food into his mouth as possible. He didn't seem any different, but Harry knew better: the youngest make Weasley was deeply worried about the witch next to him. Harry had seen the change over the past few weeks. Ron, for most of their nearly seven years of Hogwarts, had always treated Hermione simply as a friend or, in some cases, a walking dictionary. But Harry had seen his eyes when he looked at Hermione now. No one who knew him well could mistake that for simple friendship. Harry genuinely believed that his friend, Ron, the oblivious one, had fallen head over heels.

Harry shook his head and then glanced upward as the post arrived. He scanned the mass for Hedwig's snowy white plumage, but was disappointed. He looked back down at his plate, only to jerk his head up again when a large barn owl landed on Hermione's eggs, almost knocking over the pumpkin juice. It held out a large scroll of parchment in its claw. When Hermione didn't respond, it started pecking her book. _That_ woke her up.

"Hey! Stop that!" She yanked her book to safety and scrambled for change. Harry laughed. Depositing the right amount in the special pouch for this purpose, she took _The Daily Prophet_ and shooed the owl away. Her eyes were already moving back and forth very quickly as she shook out the newspaper and became lost in the words.

Harry cleared his throat. "Anything interesting?"

Hermione continued to read. "Not so far." She read another paragraph. "You're mentioned, Harry. "Boy Who Lived" and all that rubbish. Says here you endorse the Ministry on all things."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right. Next thing you know I'll be mauling people with a mad hippogriff."

"Lemme see. Anything about Dad?" Ron asked. He grabbed the paper and quickly looked it over, then handed it back to Hermione and went back to his breakfast.

She turned the page. "Oh – wait! Look at this! There's… been another attack." Her voice faltered, then shook. "I – I'm mentioned." Then she burst into tears.

"Hermione!" cried Ron. He reached over and awkwardly took her in his arms. For a moment it seemed like she would pull away, but then she turned and collapsed on his shoulder.

Harry, meanwhile, grabbed Hermione's discarded newspaper and opened to the page she had been reading. He located the article she had been looking at and blanched.

"Ron, listen to this."

Ron looked up from the witch in his arms. "What? What happened?"

Harry cleared his throat. "_He-Who-Must-No-Be-Named has struck again in a series of attacks around England, focusing specifically on the families of Muggle-born students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Several Muggles were killed, including the parents of 7th Year Hermione Granger of Gryffindor, 5th Year Anita Brown of Hufflepuff, and 4th Year John Richardson of Ravenclaw. Rumors are that He-Who-Must-No-Be-Named is planning another attack, but are as of yet unconfirmed."_

Ron gulped. "You mean… her parents… They're _dead_?"

Harry nodded solemnly. In the silence that followed, Hermione sobbed harder.

Harry turned his attention to the Staff Table. McGonagall was a rather delicate shade of green, and as he watched, she rose and started down the aisle to the Gryffindor table.

Meanwhile, Ron was stroking Hermione's hair and making vaguely comforting noises. His shoulder was now looking very damp.

Suddenly, Hermione looked up at Ron. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy. She managed a watery little face that could in a pinch have been called a smile.

"Ron," she said, her voice naught but a whisper. "Thanks."

The she leaned forward, slowly and tremulously, and kissed him full on the lips.

Ron's eye's widened, and then closed; he pulled her into a tight embrace, and, for a moment, they were lost to the world. Then Ron broke it off and grinned. Hermione looked like she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, and had decided to try both at the same time.

Harry smirked. "I would congratulate you," he said, "but McGonagall's walking this way at this very moment, and unless you want to give her a hard time deciding whether to scold you for snogging or console you for your losses, then I'd suggest leaving."

Ron looked at Hermione, and together they rose. Hermione leaned a little on Ron, and he put his arm around her shoulders. They sauntered out of the Great Hall.

Neither of them had lost their worries, but both now had someone else to share them. But wasn't that the old saying? Every cloud has a silver lining.

And so Harry followed them out, wondering if he had already thrown his chance at love away, but not regretting it in the least. For safety against Voldemort was always the highest priority, and love only came in as a poor second best.

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A/N: So, there's my plot bunny. Hope you liked it! Please read and review, people!


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